


Devil's Gospel

by szervetlen



Category: Dance Gavin Dance (Band)
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23835679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/szervetlen/pseuds/szervetlen
Summary: Tilian can't control himself once he sees Jon in his demon-mode.
Relationships: Jon Mess/Tilian Pearson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	Devil's Gospel

Jon shifted, pulling restlessly at the unfamiliar fabric of his jacket, letting out a snuffly little sigh. He was still getting used to the idea of being dressed up, posed, his face smeared with makeup, his hair full of product. He wasn’t entirely averse to it, and it was fun to see the results, but the damn shoots took so long and he just wanted to get back into his comfortable sweatpants and hoodie. Earlier on, they’d been laughing about some old photoshoots from the early 2010s, the fish-eye lens and low angles that they thought had been edgy and flattering. They might be laughable now, but at least it didn't take an entire damn day just to get a handful of pictures. 

Jon snapped back into reality as best he could as he saw one of Mika’s assistants approaching with his headpiece, two straight and two curved horns nestling cleverly among his soft curls. He had to admit it was cool, despite how heavy it was and how easily it could have been extraordinarily cringeworthy. Demon-Jon was something he could get behind and so far he’d had a lot of fun playing the part. As he sat still and let the crew do their magic, he noticed Tilian looking at him - well, less looking, more blatant staring - and Jon was startled to see the intensity of his gaze. He looked down, folding his hands in his lap and trying to ignore how flushed his face felt.

For this shot, Mika wanted Jon at the front, leaning forward while the other guys stood up behind him. Matt and Will seemed to be having the time of their lives, striking stupid tough-guy poses that made the others burst out laughing. Tim was staring down the camera, for once not able to hide behind his sunglasses. Jon self-consciously tried to look up and open his eyes wider for the camera, but he jumped as he felt a hand on one of his hips. He turned and the touch was gone as fast as it came, and he wondered if the long day was just getting to him and he was imagining things. But as the cameraman snapped away, Jon definitely felt someone moving closer behind him, a hard thigh pressing quite deliberately against his ass. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to let it distract him. It was no secret among the band that he and Tilian had been messing around, but he didn’t want to embarrass himself with all these people around. 

After what felt like a lifetime, they were finally wrapped up for the day. Jon breathed a sigh of relief as they headed for the dressing rooms, looking forward to a nice dinner in his comfortable clothes, letting himself just be Jon again. Maybe he and Tilian could order a pizza and watch some dumb movie, something he didn't have to engage his brain for. The studio they had hired for the day was spacious - again, Jon still couldn’t get used to having a proper studio, all for them, it was really quite absurd - and the dressing rooms were partitioned into a few private spaces. Jon grabbed his backpack and his clothes from the lockers and headed for his little cubicle to change. As he reached to shut the door behind him, he heard quick footsteps, and suddenly Tilian was in the little space with him, his suit jacket already discarded and the top buttons of his shirt undone. As Jon opened his mouth, Tilian pressed a finger to his lips.

“Shh,” he whispered, cupping Jon’s face and leaning into to kiss his neck, “just go with me...I can’t resist you.”

Jon reached up to remove his headpiece but Tilian firmly took his wrists. “Oh no,” he breathed, “this stays on. You look so fucking cute like this…” Tilian experimentally wrapped his hands around the curved horns, tugging slightly, smiling when he realised how hard it was to actually move.

“Almost like they’re real,” he breathed, his hands deftly sliding Jon’s jacket off his shoulders. He was wearing a plain black tee underneath, slightly damp with his sweat from being under the hot studio lights for hours. 

“Someone’s gonna hear us,” Jon whispered, but he could hardly protest when Tilian’s hands were already deftly unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning his jeans, pulling them down over his creamy white thighs. Tilian brushed his hand over the front of Jon’s boxers, feeling the reaction he was inspiring in the smaller man and breaking into a self-satisfied smile. Jon surrendered, his hands trembling slightly as he reached down to unbutton Tilian’s pants, his erection already straining against the tight, unforgiving fabric. He went to slide his hand inside Tilian’s underwear, but he pushed him away, spinning him almost roughly and pushing up against the wall, not even allowing him time to kick his jeans off. Tilian pulled back on Jon’s horn, kissing him deeply as he pushed his boxers all the way down. He pulled back to admire him - t-shirt pushed up to expose his soft middle, vulnerable with his jeans and boxers pooled around his feet, the air of submission radiating from him completely offsetting the imagery of the horns nestled in his messy curls. 

Tilian managed to kick his own pants and underwear off completely, deliberately rubbing himself against Jon’s ass now.

“You were teasing me before, weren't you,” Jon gasped, “cruel…”

Tilian squeezed his hip, “I don’t know whose idea it was to have you bent over in front of me like that,” he murmured, “but there was no way I was waiting to get you home.”

Jon went to push his ass back against Tilian’s dick, but instead he felt big, firm hands moving to his soft hips, spinning him back around to face him and then moving to his shoulders, forcing him to drop to his knees. Tilian grabbed Jon’s head again, pulling him by his horns, deliberately avoiding his eager, open mouth and slapping his dick hard against the side of his face instead. He was already leaking precum and he could see it glistening on Jon’s delicate cheekbone. Jon whimpered and tried to reach up to stroke Tilian’s dick instead.

“Hands behind your back,” Tilian said, his voice low and commanding, “don’t touch me until I say.”

Jon felt his dick pulse at this, he so badly wanted to be touched.

“You need to be good if you want me to touch you,” Tilian continued, holding his own dick and pushing the tip against Jon’s mouth, feeling his tight, wet heat before pulling out and hitting him with it again. Jon whimpered in his exquisite agony.

“Shut up,” Tilian whisper-growled, yanking Jon by his horns again and, without warning, pushing his whole length into Jon’s mouth, hitting the back of his throat, hearing his soft whimpers as he did his best to take it as best as he could. He fucked his mouth, humming in pleasure as he noticed Jon drooling with the effort of taking it so hard and so fast. He looked up imploringly at Tilian, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, his hands still clasped behind his back, his cock so hard and untouched. 

“You are a good boy,” Tilian whispered, pulling out and grabbing Jon under his armpits, spinning him back around so he was face first against the wall again. His cock was so slick from Jon’s wet mouth, he positioned himself against Jon’s tight hole, holding one hand over his mouth to stop his cries. He knew how noisy Jon could get when he fucked him like this. 

“You want it?” Tilian hissed in Jon’s ear, “you think you can take it?”

Jon nodded, whining pathetically against Tilian’s palm, desperately needing some friction against his painfully hard dick. He felt Tilian pushing, stretching him out exquisitely, until his entire length was inside and Jon felt like he was about to explode with sensation. 

“Please touch me,” Jon whimpered, pathetic in his desire.

Tilian thrust deeply, deliberately, into Jon, squeezing hard at his hip.

“I’m not having you cum all over my hand before I finish with you,” he replied, “dirty little thing.”

Jon whimpered, moaning into Tilian’s mouth as he pulled his head back to make out with him, sweeping his tongue almost aggressively into Jon’s soft, warm mouth. He was fucking Jon so hard, knowing how difficult it was for him to stay quiet, taunting him agonisingly. As he sped up, he reached around, leaving Jon’s dick untouched but cupping his balls, squeezing so gently. This was all it took for the smaller man, his hips jerking pathetically as he came into Tilian’s hand, trying his hardest not to cry out. Tilian bit down on Jon’s shoulder as he reached his tipping point, deep, long thrusts as he pushed Jon’s head forward and wrapped his hand around his horns, letting go harder than he had for a long time. He collapsed forward, pinning a shaking Jon against the wall as he gasped for breath. He looked at his hand, still slick with Jon’s cum, and slid his fingers into Jon’s mouth.

“Good,” he breathed, as he felt Jon obediently clean him up, “you’re so good…”

He reached down, pulling Jon’s boxers up over the mess around his hole. “Don’t think you’re cleaning up,” he whispered, “I’ll see you at home.”

Jon felt a rush of cold air as Tilian moved away from him, dressing himself quickly, and he was gone with only the softest kiss goodbye. He slid to the floor, exhausted, his own shaking hands moving up to his headpiece, and wondering vaguely if he would be allowed to take it with him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, in any fandom, that I'm posting publicly so I'm very nervous! I have a whole bunch more of people like this one. I'm pretty sure Jon in his horns gave a lot of us very similar thoughts! :p


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